


Mad dreams, for mad men

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Prismic Fight [2]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Gen, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>’This is crazy’ was the first thing Ben said when Tom exposed his plan. That doesn’t mean he’s not in, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad dreams, for mad men

**Author's Note:**

> So I was struggling to find something for this prompt, and then Lit said she wanted mobster!Tom fic and my brain went ‘Ask and ye shall receive’, so there this is.

The plate crashes just an inch to the left of Tom’s ear and for just a moment, Benedict can see James twitch beside him, fingers itching toward the handle of his favorite knife… James has never really liked guns, but then neither has Tom so this might explain that… they did kind of start this up together, after all.

 

“Are you done?” Tom ask, seemingly unperturbed by the attempted assault… sometimes Ben thinks if life hadn’t pushed the three of them in the clusterfuck that is their not-so-little business, they should have been actors. They’re all very good at hiding things from the people who don’t wish them good. “We’re not going anywhere.”  
“You have no idea who you’re going against boy,” the other man says as he visibly gets himself back under control.

 

Anthony Hopkins -if Hopkins is even his real name- is a tall and muscular man, salt-and-pepper hair neatly brushed back from his forehead, calculating eyes permanently squinting. Like his dresscode, Hopkins is a man of the old school, clean and neat and classy, all pinstripe suits and neckties where Ben and the others are leather jackets, high boots and sturdy black jeans. They work hard and fast and they’re not afraid to get messy, and that’s what’s going to gain them the upper hand, Ben knows.

 

“Previous generations,” James shrugs, fingers still poised near his right hip -though this time, Ben hopes he’ll be reaching for the gun first. James got hurt bad during their last operation -would have died if not for Michael and his rifle hiding in the sewers right below them.

 

There’s only so much Ben can do for James with only one gun and another boss to protect.

 

“In case you haven’t noticed,” James finishes, “the elderly don’t impress us -though I have to admit, your aim is quite decent for someone your age.”

“I know your history,” Tom tells Hopkins with an open gesture of his hands, “How you used to be a Councelor, your support to reinforced control policies for Powered… until, of course, it was discovered that you yourself were an unregistered Chameleon.”

“I prefer the term Skinchanger,” Hopkins says, but he doesn’t look like he actually expects anyone to use it. Nobody ever does. “So what, you want be a part of that trade? What could boys like you want to do with power suppressors? Are you looking for a life on the other side of the wall?” He looks to Tom with a smirk on his face. “ _You_  can kiss that dream goodbye right here and now boy.”

 

Tom snorts, shoulders shaking with the strength of it, and Ben smirks, shakes his head just as James mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘idiot’.

It’s true that Tom would never be able to pass out there. Not that wavy fake-black hair and green-gray eyes are all that remarkable, even coupled with his height… but even his shaven chin can’t make his features changes, and there’s no way Tom won’t be recognized if he goes out in broad daylight, because there’s no way people won’t recognize Loki Laufeyson’s face right away.

 

“Yeah, my big brother has gotten our face plastered in all the newspapers,” Tom agrees, “Quite the feat I’ll grant him that. Not everybody gets to make covers with Tony Stark, but you’re mistaken as to my goals here.”  Hopkins’ eyebrows raise, and Ben smirks, eager to see how the older man reacts to the revelations about to come.

“And what are they then?” Hopkins asks, frowning as James lets out a delighted laugh - _gotcha_ , Ben thinks with a smirk.

“We’re going to create a vaccine,” Tom smiles. “Against Powers.”

“Why would you do that?” Hopkins asks, eyebrows climbing to his hairline then falling back to a scowl in record time. “Aren’t you a powered yourself?”

“I am,” Tom says. “An excellent Reader, if I says so myself -I trust I don’t need to expand on the fact that I don’t mean books.”

 

Ben chuckles at that, as everyone in the business knows Tom is unable to read a single written word.

 

“I also happen to be a very impatient person and Loki’s methods, honorable as they are, will take too long for my taste. For reasons that are none of your concern, I would prefer to see Braces disappear sooner rather than later, which is why I want this ‘vaccine’ out in the field as soon as possible.”

 

Tom is playing with the blade of his double-edged knife as he speaks, and even if Ben wasn’t an Empath he would still be able to touch the understanding dawning on Hopkins’ face.

 

“But it won’t be a vaccine,” The older mans says, and Ben smiles:

“I know a guy,” he says. “Personality-wise, the reviews are mixed, but he has this interesting ability… apparently, there’s something in his blood and skin that cause a… Power surge, shall we say.”

“He makes Powered strongers?” Hopkins asks, sounding more interested by the minute.

“Or,” James says hand relaxing at his side, “He can turn non-Powered into Powered people.”

 

Looking at him, you’d think he’s some sort of kid telling a joke to his friends, Ben muses. In fact, the three of them can and do look inoffensive most of the time -and in the grand scheme of things, Ben knows he’s not all that dangerous without a gun, but James and Tom? They grew up in the sewers, and not the widely colonized parts either. As far as beginnings go, you can’t get much worse, except maybe if you can see the future or the deads. Yet here they are, steadily rising to the highest circles of the Unregistered Society. You don’t make that kind of progress by bending the neck and fleeing from fights.

 

It’s a pity they never got to be actors.

 

“It’s not permanent,” Tom shrugs, “the longest we’ve seen was two months, but it doesn’t matter. Once you’re in the camp, it doesn’t matter whether you’re really powered or not. The only way you get out of those is as a fighter, or as a corpse.”

“You want a revolution.”

 

It’s Hopkins’ henchman who speaks, almost making Ben jump. He’s been so silent so far, nobody quite rememebred him… which is odd, because Ben usually doesn’t forget guys he has trouble reading. He makes a note to keep an extra eye on that guy and pointedly doesn’t look away from him when Tom speaks -it takes effort though.

 

“I want  _the_  revolution, to be exact. I want the whole system torn down and burned for good, and for that we need numbers… which is exactly what we’re going to have when all those ‘normal’ people end up in the camps.”

“Unlike Powered they’ve never been taught it was their place,” Hopkins nods, “meaning more chances for actual demands for justice, meaning heightened likeliness of their taking arms. And once you have your revolution then what. Powered supremacy?”

“Only if I wanted the whole cycle to start again,” Tom says, putting his knife back into his belt. “I’m prepared to shed oceans of blood if I have to, but not for nothing.” He shrugs, then adds: “Of course, I might need some help with the diffusion of this vaccine. The rumor can’t come from us, or at least not directly, and you know people. I’d rather work with you than against you.”

“Of course,” Hopkins agrees, “it would be much easier for you not to have to fight on two fronts.”

 

The police raids have been going crazy lately. None of the various mafias particularly wants to start a street-war because of that but Tom’s project… let’s just say the risks are as high as the potential benefits, if not higher. There will be some who won’t like the idea, Ben knows that better than anyone.

 

“I’m aware you have prior engagements, however,” Tom mentions, tone pointedly casual. “I suppose you’ll want to test the waters with them.”

“Test the waters,” Hopkins repeats, “Or bring Bridges and Nicholson over to your cause.”

“That, Mr. hopkins, remains for you to decide. I’ll se you here in three days… to the hour.”

 

Ben takes his cue and moves to Tom’s side, putting his hand on his shoulder as he gives a nod to the other men, half-goodbye and half warning. James grabs Tom’s other shoulder and the three of them vanish in a flash of blue light.  
The travelling room is still empty, still leaded, still doorless, and Ben can’t sense anyone outside.

 

“We’re clear,” he says, a millisecond before they land in Tom’s office… office being a really grand word for a dry and not-too stinky patch of abandonned sewers closed by rusted metal pans and a lone brick wall.

“Well,” Tom asks after James has gone to retrieve Michael, “What do you think?”

 

Ben used to ask why Tom asked for his advice and not James’, but he’s come to realize it’s because James doesn’t wait for Tom to ask him before he speaks.

 

“He felt interested,” Ben says without lie, “but his bodyguard….”  
“Skurge,” Tom says, shrugging as if to say  _no idea where that name comes from_.

“I couldn’t get anything from him, and when I remembered to keep my focus on him I had to make a conscious effort. And he was never more than three steps away from Hopkins.”

“Think he could be a Cover?”

 

Ben nods.

He would like to say no, because a Slipper is bad enough in his mind -he hates not being able to read people, and he suspects all Empaths or Telepaths do- but a Cover would be worse. Normal people can protect themselves from those who read minds or soul, to an extent. Slippers make themselves forgotten, but Covers… Covers can shield someone else’ thoughts and feelings, and in this case it could be very, very dangerous.

 

“We’ll change quarters more often then,” Tom says, though he doesn’t look happy about it. “We’ve worked too hard to let them stop us now. Get a better riffle for Michael, too, and make sure Freeman is guarded by men we can trust… or catch.”

“Of course.”

 

Tom nods and Ben, who knows when he’s being dismissed, sighs and lets his shoulders slump as he walks out of their shed and into the darkness of the tunnels he grew up in. Behind him, there’s the rustle of a door and Tom’s voice growing cheerier as he says:

 

“Good news Jim!”

 

Ben looks up at the stony roof of their house, never more than four feets above his head anywhere he goes, and sighs. This plan, he knows, is complete and utter madness -folly, as Tom like to say. Still, it’s their best chance at a better life.

 

 _We’re all crazy_ , Ben thinks,  _but who else would dare kicking the anthill anyway?_

 

He smiles.


End file.
